


No Prince Charming

by Angelike



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Chamber of Secrets, Flash Fiction, Gen, POV Third Person, Past Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-23
Updated: 2003-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:59:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelike/pseuds/Angelike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom comforts Ginny as she lays dying in the Chamber of Secrets. A brief look into the mind of a human villian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Prince Charming

“Tom?” The sound of her voice—little more than a whisper, really—startled him, though he didn’t show it; she’d been so quiet the past few minutes that he’d assumed she’d succumbed to unconsciousness. He glanced in her direction, face impassive as he studied her trembling form, sprawled at the feet of his most honored ancestor. She was so pale now. So fragile. So very different from that fiery red-headed creature she’d been when he’d first met her—the one that used to weave together all sorts of silly little stories in an attempt to make him laugh.

_‘When was the last time **she** laughed?’_ he wondered. He couldn’t remember.

“Yes, Princess?” Princess—his pet-name for her. He remembered when she used to stammer and blush whenever he called her that; now it only filled her eyes with sorrow. It shouldn’t bother him—seeing those tears glimmering in her eyes. But it did. It made him feel...guilty.

Guilt—now that was an emotion he hadn’t experienced in a long while; he didn’t understand why he was suddenly feeling it now. _‘I’m doing the girl a favor, really. She’s much too sweet and innocent to be subjected to the pain and heartache this world would bestow upon her; granting her a painless death now would be a mercy. I have nothing to feel guilty for!’_

“W-would you do something for me? Please?” the girl pleaded softly.

He should say no; dishing out last requests wasn’t something Dark Lords should do, lest they become soft. But maybe, just this once... “If it’s within reason.”

“Hold me.”

He blinked, astonishment plainly reflected in his eyes of deep emerald green. He’d expected her to ask that he spare the life of her family, or something to that effect. The last thing he’d anticipated was for her to request..._that_. Why in the Nine Hells would she want him to hold her? It made absolutely no sense! He was _killing_ her; the mere _sight_ of him should churn her stomach! She should hate him! Why didn’t she?

He didn’t understand.

“Why?” he murmured, moving with a cat’s grace to kneel beside her.

The girl fumbled a bit beneath his piercing gaze and weakly reached out to grasp his hand—a gesture that caught him off guard. She seemed to be catching him off guard a lot that evening; it seemed he didn’t know her quite as well as he’d imagined... He absently caressed her dainty hand with his thumb as he waited for her to respond.

“I’m afraid, Tom,” she said, appearing to hesitate—or maybe she was just having trouble fighting off the lethargy that now had an iron grip on her. Honestly, it was a marvel that she’d managed to stay awake as long as she had. “I don’t want to die alone!” Her voice cracked with emotion, and suddenly the dame broke. Without quite being aware of what he was doing, Tom gathered the sobbing girl into his arms and proceeded to comfort her as best he knew how. Even after her tears abated, he continued to rock her gently, all the while stroking her soft curls.

“Thank you.” Her voice was muffled and faint since her face was buried in his chest, but he caught her words just the same; and he didn’t like them. He didn’t deserve her thanks. Was he not the reason she was in this precarious position in the first place?

Why couldn’t Lucius have given his diary to someone he could have hated?

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure who was more surprised by this admission—the girl in his arms, or himself—but once the words slipped out, he knew they were true. His princess was like no other, and he would miss her when she was gone...

The girl’s lips curved into a sad little smile, her eyes slightly glazed as she craned her neck to meet his eyes. “Tell me a story? Like you did when I had nightmares?”

He couldn’t refuse this simple entreaty. She was giving him her life, even as they spoke; the least he could do was ease her suffering a bit with one of the few Muggle fairy tales he’d heard as a boy.

“Once upon a time,” he began, “a king and queen wished and wished for a child. At last their wish was granted; a princess was born. To celebrate this joyous occasion, the king and queen decided to throw a great party, and sent out invitations to all corners of the land. The queen even asked the three fairy’s whom resided in the Enchanted Wood to attend; this proved to be a grave error, as the queen had forgotten about the mountain fairy, a jealous creature prone to anger...”

The slight child gave into exhaustion before long, but he never faltered his narration of “Sleeping Beauty”—not until he sensed the approach of _that boy_. Then, with something akin to tenderness, he released his hold on the girl and carefully set her back onto the cold stone floor.

She reminded him of the princess in the story, laying there, as if waiting for her handsome prince to rescue her. For a moment, he entertained thoughts of kissing life back into her; but—no.

He was no prince charming.


End file.
